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The races
least a little concerned with horses. My dad was a camp counselor there, so 1 got to go every summer for free and went for more summers than any other camper or employee the place ever had (you can look it up.)
I even went to camp longer than Cary, who got into some sort of trouble in the city during the winter and was never seen at camp again.
Of course, having your father at camp must be like having a parent teach at the school you attend. You get away with nothing. Any slice of mischief gets reported faster than the start of snack time. When we found a stack of old Playboy magazines in the camp director's quarters, I thought I’d never see the light of day again.
It was but one small destraction.
The softball games and camp overnights and games of Capture the Flag and skipping out of arts and crafts were great.
But Red Baron left a sour taste in my mouth when it came to horseback riding, which has always been the most convenient place to ride such an animal. Few campers I knew ever went horsehead
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